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20/20 Vision

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Tabbed by 

As performed by Bob Dylan Austin TX 25 Oct. 1991.
Tabbed and transcribed by Eyolf Østrem (many thanks to Jamie for supplies).

The basic rhythm (with numerous variations) is:

  G                 C         G           C      G
  :   .   .   .     :   .     :   .   .   .      :   .   .   .
|-----------------|---------|-------------0-00-|-3---------------|
|-----------------|---------|-------------1-11-|-0---------------|
|-----------------|-0-0---0-|-------------0-00-|-0---------------|
|-0-0---0-0---0---|-2-2---2-|-0-0---0-0---2-22-|-0-0---0-0---0---|
|-2-2---2-2---2---|-3-3---3-|-2-2---2-2---3-33-|-2-2---2-2---2---|
|-3-3---3-3---3---|---------|-3-3---3-3--------|-3-3---3-3---3---|

The line endings are some times embellished with a G/f#, something like this:

  :   .   .   .
|-------------3-33-|-
|-------------0-00-|-
|-------------0-00-|-
|-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-00-|-
|-2-2-2-2-3-2-2-22-|-
|-2h3-3-2h3-3-3-33-|-

  G                      C          G      C G
I went to the doctor, he says I'm alright.
  C                                G       C G
I knew he was lyin', I'm losing my sight.
C                                      G   C G
He should have examined the eyes of my mind
G                D              G          C G
20/20 vision and walkin' 'round blind.

She's gone and left, I feel so alone.
I carry a heart as heavy as stone.
I knew she was cheatin', I knew all the time
20/20 vision and walkin' 'round blind.

With my eyes wide open I lay in my bed.
If it wasn't for dyin' I wish I was dead. *)
But this is my punishment, death is too kind
20/20 vision and walkin' 'round blind.

You just didn't know her the way that I do.
You say that she's wicked, and maybe it's true.
one thing I know, she's no longer mine
20/20 vision and walkin' 'round blind.

She's gone, she's gone, oh what shall I do?
you can't be happy if she's there with you.
Some day the heart will trouble your mind
20/20 vision and walkin' 'round blind.

*) Cf. the end of the story of Dink’s Song, as told by John Lomax:

A few months ago I inquired about Dink at Yazoo City, Mississippi, her home, she had told me. Done planted up there, said a Negro woman, pointing to a nearby tree-clad hill. I could see a few slabs of marble shining through the low green foliage. Dink had sung me a spiritual about a lonesome graveyard, with the refrain: I wouldn’t mind dyin’ if dyin’ was all!

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